All of Me
by FlakJacket
Summary: Hermione Granger and Severus Snape have something in common that they never guessed about each other. **FINISHED**


Author's Note: The funny thing is I felt great when I wrote this.  
  
All of Me  
  
Hermione Granger was one of those people who deserved what they got; one of those people who worked hard to earn their position, and never kissed-up to get what they wanted. At the moment, Hermione was being introduced to the Great Hall as the new Arithmancy Professor. She had spent six years in college, studying Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and everything else one can imagine. But now she was a certified teacher. She would be working alongside the same staff that had taught her years ago, which pleased her very much, particularly with Dumbledore and McGonagall still there. Only one staff member there was entirely displeasing to her.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
Not that he liked her either; he loathed her as much as her him. But now they were forced to work together, as horrible an idea as they both found it to be. What was worse, however, was that Dumbledore told them both that they would have to collaborate on an Arithmancy-Potions project for the seventh years, to demonstrate how each science corresponded with the other. They had both let out sighs or groans, which made Dumbledore frown slightly, "I could always make you sit next to each other during meals," he added. They both gasped, "But I won't," he said.  
  
* * *  
  
The Collaboration Project was a project that required Snape and Hermione to work together during after-hours, which both of them found unfortunate. However, they both got plenty of work done, and each day with the seventh years went over quite smoothly, with the occasional Gryffindor mishap. They were at least a quarter through the year when they both realized they had a mutual liking for each other; nothing special, they just thought that the other was a reasonably good worker.  
  
But as the year went by, they realized that they were friends at the least. They now spent more time together on the Collaboration Project, which meant more conversation. One night, after they had finished their usual work on the Project, and were drinking coffee and tea, Hermione said, "You know, Professor, you're finally starting to grow on me." He frowned at her, "Thanks." "I meant in a good way; I didn't mean growing on me like a cyst." "I bloody well knew what you meant," the sarcastic man replied, scribbling through his Potions notes irritably. Hermione smirked as she drank her tea, and said nothing more.  
  
* * *  
  
The year was almost over, and the Collaboration Project had ceased to be, but Snape and Hermione continued to have conversations every evening, usually in the dungeon. What Snape found to be so incredibly unfair and heart-wrenching, though, was that he was hopelessly in love with her, and had absolutely no way of conveying it. It just wasn't Snape; he was always the bitter, nasty man that no one liked to be around, yet Hermione always came down to the dungeons to talk to him. He couldn't fathom as to why that was, and didn't bother trying.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione couldn't understand why she always went to dungeons after dinner to visit such a wretched man as Snape; or rather, maybe she could, but she just didn't like admitting it. Maybe it was how intelligent and witty he was, but she was in love with him. God help her if she ever said anything to him, though. He'd probably yell at her and say, 'Be quiet you silly girl!' so she didn't bother with it. But every once in a while, she'd catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, then it would vanish the moment he had caught on that she'd been looking at him.  
  
Once, Hermione had gone down to the dungeons to catch Snape in the middle of making a wit-sharpening potion; by sheer accident, she'd run into him while he'd been making a trip to his potions stores. They'd both mumbled apologies to each other, but it was a little to hasty and ill-timed to sound like nothing more than an innocent accident. Both of them felt increasingly stupid after that, and Hermione felt the urge to drink the entire cauldron of wit-sharpening potion.  
  
* * *  
  
Three years passed before Snape could bear it no longer, and he asked Hermione if perhaps she would like to make a trek to Diagon Alley to restock his potions supplies. She had gladly said yes, and that Saturday they both Apparated to the Apothecary at the end of Knockturn Alley. They were just about to enter the store when Snape stopped her, "There's something I need to tell you," he said, and Hermione noticed he was sweating slightly. She found that unusually odd, especially considering it was nine o'clock at night, and quite cool at that. "Is something wrong?" she asked. He shook his head, "No, I'm fine. I just need to tell you something." She waited a minute, but he simply opened his mouth once and said nothing, then closed it again.  
  
"It'd be easier on both of us if you just spilled the beans instead of thinking about it," she said finally. He looked at her with eyes that spoke of torn emotions, then finally, "You know I'm not an emotional person." She craned her neck, "Everyone knows you're not an emotional person." He nodded, "Of course. That's why.I'm.I can't.I'm having a hard time trying to.convey my emotions right now." "Then I'll make it easy on you," said Hermione, "just tell me what's on your mind. Don't sugarcoat anything. Just say it. It all means the same thing either way." He nodded again, "Okay," and he took a systematic deep breath, growing more and more nervous with each passing second. Hermione was almost on the verge of taking him to a medi-wizard because he seemed so off-balance. Finally, he fell to the ground on one knee, and Hermione thought he'd passed out, but before she could do anything he spoke.  
  
"Hermione, will you marry me?"  
  
The word 'SHOCK' was written across Hermione's face, and Snape regretted his words in an instant, as he knew he would. But then a smile grew, and she suddenly flung her arms around his neck and squealed the word "YES!" He let out a sigh of relief and hugged her back, "All this time and I thought you never liked me." Hermione said in his ear. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know how to convey emotions. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry," she said, "it doesn't matter now." They broke their embrace, and Snape pulled out a small, red velvet box; inside it was a black ring. "This is a special type of ring," he said, putting on her finger; "It changes to fit the person wearing it."  
  
They looked down at the ring on her finger, and slowly it became a bright, shining blue color with fiery red swirls inside it. "That's the sort of person you are," said Snape, "or so the ring says." She smiled, "It's beautiful. Thank you." She clasped his hand tightly, and for a moment, no one else in the world existed but each other. Finally, Snape pulled her toward the Apothecary, and they spent the most joyous hours of their lives shopping for potions and holding hands, a strange sight to the regulars there who knew Snape. When they finally emerged, they walked to Florean Fortescue's; they were almost there, and part of the way out of the entrance to Knockturn Alley when Snape saw someone familiar. He looked over his shoulder to see Lucius Malfoy clothed in his black Death Eater robes, and he was giving Snape a mean stare.  
  
Malfoy raised his wand, and Snape suddenly realized what was happening; he shoved Hermione out of the way to prevent her from getting hit by the spell, and she fell into the grimy wall of the Alley. Suddenly Snape felt as if his gut had been wrenched out, for Malfoy wasn't aiming for him.  
  
He was aiming for Hermione.  
  
"NO!" shouted Snape, running to Hermione; but it was too late; she'd already been hit by the Curse of the Serpent, a Voldemort specialty known for its' incurable properties and its' slow death. Hermione fell to the ground, clutching her stomach, feeling nothing but pain, "Oh God." she said softly, "it hurts so much." Snape immediately pulled out his wand and began trying to heal the bloody wound in her side, but it refused to heal, just as the Curse of the Serpent promised. Snape felt as if his own heart had been ripped out, "Oh no." he said, still trying to heal her. The wound simply bled more, so he stopped his trials. Tears dripped from his eyes and he sniffed, "What's happened to me?" she asked, "What curse.?" "The Curse of the Serpent." he said quietly, voice choked.  
  
"Oh." she said, "that's incurable." He nodded slowly, more tears pouring out, "Oh Severus." she said, smiling slightly, "it doesn't even hurt anymore." He held her quietly, nodding without a word, supporting her head in his arms. "Severus, there's no need to cry," she said, putting her arms around him even as her strength began to fail. "At least we found out, at least we knew about each other," she said, "thank God for that Severus." He shook his head, "Please don't leave me," he said, voice barely audible. She smiled again, "I can't help it. I'd never leave you voluntarily. But sometimes you have to leave when you don't want to." He cried even harder, clutching her tightly; "I feel cold," she said, clutching him back weakly.  
  
He sobbed into her neck, "I can't be alone again. Don't leave me." Tears rolled from her eyes in silence, "I love you Severus." "I love you too," he said, voice muffled in her robes. He looked at her right hand where her engagement ring was. The bright blue and fiery swirls were gone.  
  
The stone was black once again, as if no one wore it.  
  
And no one did.  
  
Realizing that Hermione lay dead in his arms, Severus Snape began to cry again; the crying turned into maddened bawling, and he shook her in his arms, hoping that this was all one big, horrible joke. But it wasn't. "No no no no no." he moaned, holding her tight, crying all the more.  
  
Once again, Severus Snape was alone in the world.  
  
* * *  
  
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, yet Severus Snape was never the same again. He walked about as if he were a corpse, never quite living, never quite dead. Dumbledore himself had been in a stupor for the first three weeks or so until he finally realized that there was nothing he could do. Lucius Malfoy had been caught and taken to Azkaban; he'd already gone mad, but it didn't undo what had happened that cold Saturday night.  
  
Finally, Dumbledore went down to the dungeons to see Snape; he found him sitting in the chair behind his desk, staring emptily at the student desks. Today was a Sunday, so there were no classes, but he continued to sit at his desk, barely conscious of what time it was. Dumbledore sat down in one of the student desks, and said nothing. Suddenly, of all people, Snape himself spoke, "In the thirty-five years I've been on this planet, I've never been in love with anyone but her." Dumbledore felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict, "She was a wonderful person, Severus." "She was the only person that ever really liked me," he said quietly, "she didn't like my work ethics but hate me as a person; she liked all of me."  
  
Dumbledore nodded; for at least ten minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally Snape said, "Goodbye Albus. I have to go." Without thinking about it Dumbledore replied, "Goodbye," as Snape went into his potions storerooms. Dumbledore got up, slightly in a stupor, and was walking out the door when he heard the tinkle of breaking glass. Suddenly he realized what had happened, and he ran to Snape's storerooms to see him lying on the floor, dead. Dumbledore's mouth hung open, and he could only stare as he watched the poison drip quietly from the broken vial. He felt tears drip from his eyes once again, only this time they weren't for Hermione Granger. 


End file.
